


Accused

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon character disappearance, Gen, M/M, Mystery, law and lawyers, murder accusation, police questionning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1290061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-war during Cybertronian 'unrest.' When the Iacon police 'get heavy' with Starscream over Skyfire's failure to return from Earth, help arrives from an unexpected quarter.</p><p>No real warnings. Suggestion of some m/m attraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Swindle is a lawyer!

“Lets go through this again,” the black and white officer said matter of factly. “Just to make certain I’ve got things clear…”

Starscream sighed. As if they hadn’t already been through this – more than once. Still tired from the journey across interstellar space, he still could not really work out why he had been met from the spaceport by the police, and not by Professor Wheeljack and others from the Science Academy - especially when he’d sent a special transmission.

The officer - Prowl, he’d said his name was - regarded Starscream with furrowed optic ridges. “As I understand it, you and Skyfire spent some time on this world studying various landforms and weather patterns, especially the multitude of life forms - none of which were intelligent, and none of which resembled anything remotely cybernetic. You made notes and collected data, all of which was stored within Skyfire’s databanks – is that correct?”

Starscream nodded. He supposed he should go along with it. Maybe this was standard offworld return procedure? It was, after all, the first time he’d ever been outside the sector – and Prowl had only been repeating the facts.

Prowl frowned at Starscream again. “A storm system then formed over some mountains in the northern hemisphere of this planet, and you and Skyfire decided to study it?”

“Yes…” Well – Skyfire had wanted to study it. Starscream had wanted to fly through it… At the memory, the Vossian’s spirits sank. If only everything hadn’t happened so fast. His recall circuits glitched uneasily. _Flying fast – cloud came in – over mountains – abort - came out and Skyfire wasn’t there…_

“You underestimated the strength of this storm and were blown too close to the tops of the mountains. Whilst you were able to take evasive action, Skyfire wasn’t. He collided with one, and you lost communication.”

“I _assumed_ he did that. I don’t know for sure” No matter how many times Starscream had to relate that part, there would always be a wrench to his spark, the chill of the unknown – until, of course, he found Skyfire again. Yes, he must not lose hope. The sooner he was over and done here, the sooner he could talk to Wheeljack and organize the rescue mission. He simply could not believe that his mentor did not still function, somewhere.

Prowl’s bright blue optics were upon him. “When the storm cleared, you searched for Skyfire. You couldn’t find him in the mountains, but you had a ‘feeling’ about the ice covered area that lay to the north. You spent some time up there, both on the ground and in the air, looking for him; but to no avail. Is that correct?”

“Yes - I am certain that’s where he ended up. And when we go back to rescue him, that’s where I’m going to direct the expedition.”

“I see…” Prowl gave him a long hard look. But he appeared to be done – for the moment, anyway. He nodded to the other mech, also black and white, but a leaner, meaner looking specimen. He had been lounging against the wall at the back of the room with his arms folded.

“Expedition eh?” The other mech came forward. “Now – with all th’ hard times goin’ on here, how d’you s‘pose that’s gonna happen? Ain’t exactly a lotta spare cash lyin’ around for that kinda thing, now is there?”

Starscream could not answer that. An uneasy feeling went through his circuits. In contrast with the officious and stiff door-winged chief of police, this one had an easy, self confident gait and a smoothness that was suggestive of hidden dangers and traps. Instead of sitting in the other chair at the interview table that was opposite Starscream, he perched on the edge of the table.

“No – there ain’t.” the mech answered his own question. “And strikes me that might be just a little – convenient. So for the sake of making this easy for yourself - you gonna tell me what really happened out there?”

Starscream’s unease deepened. Now he thought of it, he’d heard of this mech; Jazz, his designation was – or that was what he went by anyway. He was known in Voss – sometimes conducted interrogations of its errant inhabitants. One thing stuck in Starscream’s processor: he didn’t _like_ Vossians. Quite a few of Starscream’s kind were behind bars because of his interventions.

Perched there casually with blue optics glittering, Starscream read not only confidence but toughness and dedication, a rigorous enthusiasm in pursuit of obeying the law; an intolerance for anyone the mech decided that - in his rulebook - wasn’t worthy of tolerance.

‘Well?” Jazz said. Well - if he was such an upholder of truth and the law, he shouldn’t have to ask a question like that. “I told you what happened,” Starscream said. “And there is going to be a rescue mission. You’ll see. _Professor_ Skyfire is too valuable to just leave out there.”

Jazz didn’t respond. He glanced across at Prowl, who nodded. He turned back to Starscream, and cocked his head on one side. “When did you leave on this – expedition of yours?”

He’d already told them that. This was starting to be annoying. “About five vorns ago.”

“A while back. But not that long ago, was it?” “Well it wouldn’t have been so long,” Starscream explained. “But you see, there was the accident, and then I was stuck at Junction Seventeen and this shuttle was supposed to help me but she had to go into the third quadrant…”

“Ah yes,” the mech broke in. “This female shuttleformer that nobody’s ever heard of. What was her name…?”

“Galactica,” Starscream answered. “You see, she’s never been here and that’s why nobody knows her. But when the Shuttleformers left their part of the galaxy…”

“All right – we’re not here to talk about the vagaries of Shuttleformers,” the mech said, a dangerous edge to his voice. “Just the one Shuttleformer. - your mentor to be precise. How long had you worked at the Science Academy?”

“A few vorns,” Starscream said, taken aback at these sudden changes of tack, and annoyed at this dismissal of what had been a crucial part of his ordeal, and a very lucky chance. “Why?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” Jazz smiled – in a not pleasant way. “Did you – enjoy working with Skyfire?”

“Of course. It was an honour to be given the opportunity.”

Surely that was obvious – and it ought to be something that Jazz took notice of, especially as one who didn’t like Vossians; for was not Starscream the first Vossian ever to make it into a Cybertronian institution, thus dispelling the myth that Vossians were a violent and out of control rabble, a failed experiment and a drain on Cybertronian law enforcement resources?

It didn’t seem to impress Jazz, however. “Very good to you, wasn’t he, your friend Skyfire?” “Yes. He had faith in my abilities. It was he who argued the case for me joining the Academy.”

Jazz nodded. Behind him Prowl sat impassively, all solid black and white. Jazz leaned forward. “How would you describe your - _relationship_ with Professor Skyfire?”

Now Starscream was even more confused. “He was my tutor, my mentor,” he said. “We had a very good…”

Starscream hesitated, feeling uneasy now; for it was not easy to explain what Skyfire had confessed to feeling, and how he’d reacted to it. Starscream remembered what Skyfire had said about inappropriate mentor-student relationships, and the one thing he did not want to do was get them both into trouble; not that they’d ever actually done anything, but…

Jazz was looking at him. “Yes?”

“We had a good - working relationship.”

“Are you sure that was all it was?”

“It – er – well yes. We were both scientists…”

“Skyfire didn’t develop an – affection – for you?”

“He – I…”

“He didn’t present a situation in which you, as a Vossian with – as we all know – very erratic emotions – found somewhat ‘difficult’ to deal with?”

“What..?” No – whatever Skyfire might have confessed, might have admitted had been the case with his feelings for Starscream, it had not really been a problem. Starscream had felt a little overwhelmed, perhaps, and strangely flattered - but no more.

Besides, how dare Jazz stereotype Vossians like that? Starscream was really starting to get annoyed, now. If that was how it was going to be, Starscream might just show Jazz how ‘uncontrollable’ Vossians could get…

His servos flexed, wings twitching instinctively – a reaction that caused Jazz to smile with interest and sit back, folding his arms. But – and perhaps it was timely – Starscream was aware, then, of a commotion outside the door. An argument seemed to be taking place.

“You can’t go in there,” proclaimed an officious sounding voice. “Officer Prowl has distinctly requested not to be disturbed.”

“Well Officer Prowl had better get himself his own attorney then hadn’t he?” said a higher pitched, cockily self assured sounding voice. “Because if I don’t get to see my client, then I’m gonna report you under section six forty six subsection two-one of the Justices Act, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna need.”

Prowl got up. Jazz didn’t move, however. “I’ll ask you again…” his dark optics remained fixated on Starscream. _“What_ was your relationship with Skyfire…?”

Before Starscream could answer, there were more raised voices, and the door opened abruptly. Jazz looked up. He muttered a curse as a shortish yellow mech pushed past Prowl and bustled into the room.

A black finger pointed at Starscream “Don’t you move a relay. And whatever he asked you, don’t answer it!” Purple optics glittered from a dark, roundish shaped face.

Starscream opened his mouth; then shut it again as the bright purple optics conveyed with great success _just how unwise it would be_ to say anything at all.

“Pit…” Jazz said loudly. He got up. There was no mistaking his annoyance – yet the yellow one seemed unperturbed. He also exhibited an air of confidence, as though he, too, was quite at home in this atmosphere of police and difficult questions.

“Well guys,” the yellow one looked from Prowl to Jazz. “I have to say I’m disappointed. Especially with you Jazz – hey – I thought you had aspirations to study law properly? I mean like – _a degree?_ Ain’t gonna get far if you can’t get your processor round basic Cybertronian rights – especially racial minorities.”

For all his cool composure, Starscream felt the black and white mech bristle with undisguised fury. Jazz’s optics flashed dangerously. Starscream felt strangely relieved. Jazz had seemed s cool, so unruffled – yet this small yellow mech seemed to have unruffled him completely in no time at all.

“Make your point, Swindle,” Jazz snapped.

“Heheh! I just made it!” the yellow one cackled.

Jazz looked as though he might murder the mech, but Prowl stepped in. “Swindle,” he said calmly. “We’re grateful for your attendance. Of course we recognize that Starscream here has rights, but with the recent troubles, attorneys have not always been available…”

“Ah! So that gives you the right to go off on some gung-ho quest…”

“Shut your mouth!” Jazz snarled.

“Just so you know, your attitude is being – noted,” Swindle wagged a finger at Jazz. He shot Starscream a glance and winked.

Prowl cast Jazz a slightly exasperated look. He turned back to Swindle. “There’s nothing wrong with a few preliminary questions,” he said, “To move matters along a little - we have not recorded this, Swindle. If you would like some time alone with your client, we will be happy to accommodate this…”

“Thank you Prowl,” Swindle smiled, becoming all charm and gratitude. “So glad to see that somebody in this place upholds the proper values…” he grinned wickedly at Jazz; “cos it looked to me as if that was getting a little _un_ -preliminary – and we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Prowl was moving towards the door – but Jazz wasn’t done yet. “Who paid you?” he growled. “Who paid for your sorry aft to grace our establishment this time? And what’s their interest in yet another Vossian?”

Swindle remained impassive; but the purple optics gleamed with a hard, _don't frag with me_ edge. “Well now - that’s none of your business, is it Officer?” he said calmly.

Prowl touched Jazz’s arm. Jazz gave Swindle one more look of utter contempt – then swept from the room, Prowl following. The door clanged shut.

Swindle shook his head. “I dunno,” he said. “An’ they wonder why everyone hates the Government? Why there’s unrest out there – what the hell do they expect? Anyway …” he held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Starscream. As you gathered, I’m your lawyer – and probably best not to ask who gave me the job, since I don’t know myself.”

The last statement caused a fresh set of cackles erupting from the yellow one. Without really understanding what was funny, and now more confused than ever, Starscream shook the black hand. It had a reassuringly firm grip – and suddenly there were just so many things he wanted to ask Swindle all at once – but only one seemed really important: _why do I need a lawyer?_

“Why am I here? He stammered. “And what’s the deal with this, and them, and you - am I in trouble or something?”

Swindle’s mouth fell open. “You mean they didn’t even tell you that?”

“No – I just got in from the Junction and I was coming through the checkin at the spaceport when…”

“The _what?”_ Swindle looked incredulous. “You mean you…oh by Primus” he shook his head. Please don’t tell me you only just got in from the warp zone and the first thing they did was haul you in here?”

“Yes…”

“And I suppose it was beyond their capability to give you any refreshments?”

“They didn’t…”

“Tch tch tch… “ Swindle shook his head. “Questioning an _under-energized_ , warp disorientated suspect with no attorney present. Well don’t you worry – they got no chance of any of what just went on before I got here standing up in court.”

He pushed a button on his arm. “Say – can you rouse up some low-grade and get it up to room two forty three on the tenth floor…”

Starscream should have felt relieved. He really should; for despite his cockiness, there was no doubt Swindle knew what he was doing, and could more than handle himself when it came to the law. But now only one word dominated the Vossian’s processor – “Suspect? I’m a _suspect?_ For _what?”_

Swindle gaped at him. “You mean they didn’t tell you that either… oh pit,” he said. “Frickin’ afts…”

He let out a sigh – and the look he gave Starscream was not unkind. ”Your pal Skyfire,” he said. “They er – kinda don’t believe he had an accident. You see …” he regarded Starscream steadily, but pursed his lips firmly and looked away before he spoke. “They think you knocked him off.”

Starscream felt ill. He barely noticed when the door opened and a tray with steaming concoctions was placed on a shelf just inside. It shut again with a clang of sickening finality.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz and Prowl continue their deliberations, while Swindle has to 'manage' his client.
> 
> No real warnings. Some suggestions of violence.

“Why of all the low down, sneaky, underhanded afts they could have…

“Jazz!” Prowl pulled him up sharply when they were away from the door. “That could have gone better, you know.” he sighed. “I should have stopped you."

 

 

 

“No!” the smaller mech retorted. “Because just for once I’d like to actually _nail_ one of these guys.”

“That might not happen if you insist on bringing up speculative factors at this stage.”

“You heard what Perceptor said? I think it’s a little more than _speculative…”_

“Not without evidence.”

“Look –“ Jazz threw his hands up. “How many Vossians we got running wild in this city? Pretty much every time something happens there’s one o’them in the frame, but they never get properly busted. And you know why?”

He jabbed a finger at Prowl. “ _Because we do it by the book._ And every time we do, some smartaft like that…” he jerked his thumb back in the direction of the interview room, “blows us out of the water.”

Prowl sighed. He understood Jazz’s frustrations. He remembered his own ambitions as a young officer to ‘clean up’ Iacon. He also knew how easy it was to end up in the firing line oneself – especially when minorities were in issue.

“Swindle’s just doing his job,” he said. “Believe me, if we don’t do it by the book we’ll be in a lot more trouble than if we do. The guy doesn’t miss a trick.”

“Ha! As if he was a paragon of legal obedience. Look who he’s been workin’ for lately? It ain’t no accident either that Onslaught’s heavies end up with him sittin’ there almost as much as the Vossians.”

“Well in their case, at least we _have_ nailed a few afts haven’t we Jazz? In spite of Swindle’s talents.” Prowl said it matter of factly, having no wish to complicate matters by a discussion of the underworld boss himself, another who had so far eluded the long arm of the law with remarkable efficiency. At least looking after Vossians wasn't Onslaught's style.

“S’pose you’re right,” Jazz grumbled, “but Swindle’s a pain in the tailpipe.”

“That I will not argue with.”

They paused at the elevator. Prowl regarded his junior. “We can lock Starscream up anyway you know,” he said. “We got enough for that.”

Jazz frowned. “Ain’t Swindle just gonna ask for bail?”

“Oh yes – but it won’t get heard within the cycle. Judges are snowed under with hearings today. And even if he does, Starscream hasn’t exactly got places to go.”

Jazz looked instantly more cheerful. “Reckon a night of charming company in this place’ll do wonders for that piece of Vossian pit,” he said. “One thing I like about you Prowlie? Y’always leave the good news till last. Really gives me somethin’ to look forward to.”

Prowl regarded him firmly. “You stick to getting evidence – and leave the procedural side of things to me. And I suggest we stick to professional forms of address…” he shot Jazz a look of reproach, “for both officers and suspects.”

But he was pleased, relieved at Jazz’s change of mood. “We’ll have to go back there later when they do the necessaries.” He said. “Meantime - you feel like a midgrade?”

“Yeah…” Jazz was grinning. “I feel like I need more than that, but mid'll do for now. Usual?” Prowl nodded.

Instead of going up to the Chief of Police’s office, they headed down the corridor that led to the mess.

………….

“I didn’t,” Starscream shouted. “I would never…. I mean, how could they even _think_ it!”

Bitter hatred gripped him. For the Cybertronian establishment, the Government, the police – _everyone._ For all his efforts he was still a Vossian; labeled, minority, regarded as a ‘failed experiment’ by the most part by Cybertron’s populace. Worthy of locking up at best; at worst - eradication.

His fists clenched with the deep outrage, a hum sounding as core systems powered. He’d show them! Were not his kind built initially for military purposes? For the protection of Cybertron?

Yes – everyone was going to be _so_ sorry that it all went so wrong – and it would be their faults that he, Starscream, had turned from the peaceful pursuit of science to become his true self…

“Look - _save it!”_  Swindle was holding up his hands. “You wanna make things worse?” For a small mech, he looked remarkably unperturbed – as though furious mechs with a possible penchant for violence were a regular occurrence, all part of the great game of cops and criminals in the Central Police Precinct of Iacon.

“But I _didn’t!”_ Starscream’s fist clanged down on the table, making it jump slightly in its mountings.

Swindle’s purple optics merely flared, slightly. He regarded the Vossian fist; and then Starscream - firmly. “They don’t know that now do they? Far as their concerned, you’re a hot-tempered loose canon who's so bad at restraining himself that he can’t be relied upon not to do away with his partner at the height of some tiff-taff. Now…” he leaned forward, “ain’t no point in handing them on a plate evidence that you’re just like they say you are, is there?”

Starscream removed his fist. What Swindle said made sense, somehow; yet he still did not want to hear it. He shifted, restlessly. “But I _didn’t. You_ believe me, don’t you?”

Swindle shrugged. “Ain’t my job to believe you or not believe you, pal. It’s to look at all the evidence an’ see if there’s enough there for them to accuse you - then show a judge an’ jury that there ain’t if there ain’t. Which, I have to say, on precursory perusal of the facts, there _ain’t._ But that’s what we gotta have a chat about now.”

But Starscream felt anger rise again. “You have to believe me!” he burst out. “I’m telling the _truth_! I shouldn’t even _be_ here! I’m important at the Academy. I’m – somebody!”

He was on his feet. A long blue finger pointed at Swindle “I want you to provide them with a list of my credentials, and point out how I’m not the sort of mech who could possibly do a thing like this - even if I am a Vossian. You’re the lawyer! You tell them that! I don’t even want to _discuss_ this _any_ further - with you or anyone!”

But Swindle only sighed. He folded his arms. “No can do, pal.”

“Well we’ll see about that, won’t we! You’ll be sorry when I tell them at the Academy that you didn’t even try!”

A thick silence fell within the room. Starscream refused to look at Swindle, studying instead a greenish patch on the wall, opposite. From outside came clangs and bangs, scuffling sounds and incoherent yells. There was a crash, a loud yelp, then silence. Try as he might, Starscream couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“Things can get rough ‘round here,” Swindle shrugged. “So I suggest you stop lookin’ at me like I was public enemy number one, and listen to what I say, because right now I’m the best friend you got.”

Starscream realized that the patch on the wall looked remarkably like congealed energon. He felt suddenly exhausted again, underenergized and giddy. Putting one hand out, he braced himself against the table. “I’m not staying here,” he said stubbornly. “Not you, nor anyone can make me.”

Swindle remained motionless for a moment, still regarding him with those intense purple optics; then he leaned forward, his hands on the table. “Oh yes, they can.  Now _siddown_ and _shuddup_ and _listen.”_

Starscream scowled at the lawyer. He still felt like ripping those yellow neck cords out, putting a fist in the dark face. But he complied; for the surety seized him again that Swindle _knew_ his way around this frightmare - in a manner that Starscream could not even hope to glean.

“Good.” Swindle sat back. “Cos if you’re gonna flatten somebody, its in your interests for it not to be me, OK? And if it makes you happier…” he smiled, crookedly. “I believe ya. Didn’t say I _didn’t_ , did I?” 

Starscream calmed a little. That strange sense of trust came again, that the likes of Prowl and Jazz might  push him around, but that Swindle was a force to be reckoned with; a shard in their sides that somehow, whatever happened, made this whole exercise more bearable. Yet it was still so – outrageous; and now Starscream had an idea.

“I still don’t have to stay here,” he growled. “All you have to do is contact my colleagues at the Academy and tell them I’m here. They will come and get me. Perceptor is the one to call – yes – he is one of the highest authorities there! He will have me out in no time.”

Swindle regarded him. He let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, well there’s kind of a problem with that,” he said. “You see – its Perceptor that persuaded Prowl to bring you in.”

………..

Watching Jazz’s back at the bar, Prowl allowed himself a few moments reflection – about Vossians. They were not exactly small, he surmised. They could fly, and they had weapons capacity. Whilst the lack of any real Cybertronian enemies had rendered the initial reason for their construction somewhat redundant, the destructive tendencies were right there. If ever organized, their potential was obvious.

In the current political climate, that possibility sent shivers up Chief of Police’s backstrut. Prowl had to admit too - all be it with reluctance - that the rate of their recent acquittals was alarming, even without the Swindles of the court system. It was almost as though some judges seemed swayed in a certain direction…

But he was not about to tell Jazz _that_. Or entertain any less than logical explanations seriously himself. Had not the Quintessons, in recognition of the need for true justice in the new democratic order, made behavioral aberrations almost impossible in the Cybertronian judiciary?

Any apparent ‘lenience’ was no doubt a mere compensation, a programmed ‘glitch’ that would make sure Vossians, as minorities, were subject to an even more rigid application of “innocent before proven guilty.” Yes – and Prowl approved of that. Wholesparkedly.

Jazz had returned with the drinks. Prowl switched his train of thought. The Vossian situation was not a subject which, for the moment, he wished to raise again with the junior detective. Picking up the fizzing glass of midgrade, he sipped, silently.

“You know, there is one thing that intrigues me though,” Jazz said, sitting down. “To be fair to our Vossian pal an’ all.”

“Oh yes? “ Prowl cocked an optic ridge, surprised at the sudden congenial terminology. He frowned, hoping that Jazz had not slipped in a few sneaky tipples at the bar. “Do pray tell?”

Jazz took a sip and sat back, considering his glass. “This shindig to this Earth place? Y’know it was funded by an Alpha caste?”

“I do, Jazz, yes – Mirage funded it,” Prowl said. “He’s new on the corporate tycoon scene – a rising star I believe. Keen to further philanthropic causes – including the ‘shindig’ as you so fondly term it. Seems considerably more ethical than other Alphas I've met.”

He felt no enthusiasm at the raising of this topic. The less Prowl had to do with the Alpha caste the better. Cybertron’s former rulers and now wealthiest mechs on the planet were not constrained by Quintesson - or any other - behavioral inhibitors, and they disliked uncalled for attention. Senior officials had a strange way of ‘needing to step down from office’ if they’d caused an Alpha to get it.

Jazz twirled the glass in his fingers. “Mirage is a D’Ligier - one of the lesser clans – but one eager to make its mark, I believe?”  

Now Prowl did feel uneasy. He sensed some new 'theory' – and not a welcome one. Allegations against Vossians were one thing; dragging in an inhabitant of Cybertron’s illustrious Towers District was quite another.

“I hope you are not going to suggest,” he said, “that some way of disposing of one of Cybertron’s top scientists was cooked up here? Sure it would be novel – no witnesses, Vossian in the frame, etcetera – but it seems like a very great deal of trouble to go to. And rather lacking in motive.”

And that was so – for political motives had crossed Prowl’s processor. As far as he knew, neither Starscream nor Mirage D’Ligier had them. Nor was there any component to the Earth trip that suggested some secret political gain - to be worked on by Skyfire or otherwise - for anyone. It was, in all the evidence that Perceptor had given them, a straight, long-distance exploratory excursion.

That was why the scientist was so convinced of Starscream’s guilt; that, and what with the _other incident_ Perceptor had disclosed…

Jazz was chuckling. “Y’know – there’s another thing I like,” he said. “How y’always think I’ve rustled up the worst kinda conspiracy theory before I’ve even scarcely even opened my mouth…”

He ignored Prowl’s reproachful glance. “I wasn’t gonna suggest that as it happens. But I do think its interesting, at least, that a contract got signed before they left.” He leaned forward. “A fairly hefty _insurance_ contract? Now, I don’t know what was in it yet, but I’ll bet my aft the payout only happens under certain circumstances; like – accident ? _Not_ murder?”

Prowl nodded slowly. So _that_ was it. “You think Mirage is hiring Swindle?”  

Jazz grinned. “You said yourself – mech’s good. He’s Onslaught’s number one.”

Prowl picked up his drink and began to sip, thoughtfully again. “So he’s not only getting Starscream off, he’s recouping Mirage a fortune – and preserving his reputation for _not_ underwriting unprofitable projects …” he looked up at Jazz. “What do you think are the implications?”

 Jazz shrugged. “I dunno. Could be a conflict of interest – in which case smartypants Swindle could be on shaky ground. I’ll leave that to you - _you’re_ the procedural expert. But whatever the case, I reckon that contract’s worth checking out.”

_Complicated,_ Prowl thought. And messy – it could be. _As if this wasn’t already_. He sighed. “All right - I’ll pay Mirage a visit. No Jazz, just me….” he cast a stern look as the other mech  opened his mouth to speak. “It’s – different in the Towers. I know how things are done. In the meantime…” he held out his empty glass. “I think we have time for another.”

 Jazz raised an optic ridge. “Well - thought that’d rattle your cage. Didn’t think it’d turn you into a midgrade o’holic…”

As Jazz made his second sortie, Prowl’s mind went back to the judicial decisions, the acquitting of Vossians and others that seemed so odd in the circumstances. At least if Jazz was right about Mirage and Swindle, then regardless of what happened in the Starscream case it was unlikely to be connected to any skullduggery going on in the wider sphere.

_Or was it?_ Why did the Chief of Police have the distinct impression that there was more to this situation than he cared to find out?

The extra drink was a very good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> It will be continued. It might not move very fast, but it will be continued.


End file.
